


When Leo Met Calypso

by AlixxBlack



Series: Trope Challenge [18]
Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Modern AU, calypso fixes him, leo gets hurt, meet cute, physical therapy AU, sports AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:08:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22026091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlixxBlack/pseuds/AlixxBlack
Summary: Trope #25 of 30, per the list seen on Twitter in a series of tweets by @ selpukuPrompt: sports AU: ‘I’m an athlete who’s gonna compete on olympic/tournament but I injure myself before competition and you’re my medical therapist who’s going to help me recover’
Relationships: Calypso/Leo Valdez
Series: Trope Challenge [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534436
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All credit where credit is due to the original author and publishing company. I am not writing this for any sort of profit in any way. The credit for the prompts to the original poster as well.
> 
> Disclaimer(b): I did take some slight liberties with this prompt because I had no desire to get to technical about the piece because physical therapy and medical care can take a LONG time and I didn't want this to be a full length piece (it ended up longer than I intended anyway, but you know how it goes).

**Week 1: The Injury**

Everyone told me I shouldn’t do it and I should’ve listened to every single person. Especially Annabeth, since she is a genius, basically, and if she was telling me that I would probably kill myself trying, then I should have trusted that. I should not have just decided to compete in a skateboard competition that is kind of a big deal. It’s not even something I do all the time. I just thought, I guess, that I was good enough to just do it. Why am I like this?

That’s the only question in my mind when I completely miss the ramp after attempting a mctwist for only the fifth time ever in my life. The skateboard left my hand and my weight shifted to the side, causing me to land on my ankle first. I’ve never felt so much agony in my life, and I’m just screaming.

I’m screaming and crying and it is so embarrassing… The  _ most  _ embarrassing…

People are loading me onto a stretcher and getting me off the ramps and into the medic tent. Of course, they end up having to call an ambulance since I definitely hurt my bones pretty badly. All the way, I keep crying and screaming because I don’t know how to deal with any level of pain, I guess.

And I just keep asking that same question: why am I like this?


	2. Chapter 2

**Week 2: Physical Therapy Assessment**

“This is a moderate injury, is that correct?” the nurse asks, brushing her blonde hair over her shoulder. She’s very beautiful and I smile, even though she’s not looking at me, but I want to look my best when she makes eye contact with me soon.

“That’s what I’m told,” I say smoothly.

The nurse types furiously and moves quickly to the next question. “This injury was sustained during a skateboarding competition, is that correct?”

It’s hard to look cool when you feel called out, but I think I manage to do it with style. “Yeah, I didn’t quite stick the landing.”

“How would you rate your pain at this time?”

At that point, it becomes super apparent to me that she isn’t going to look at me and it doesn’t matter how cool I look to her because she’s here to work. I cut my losses and answer her questions as coldly as she asks them and watch her leave just as quickly as she came in.

I scroll and scroll through all of my social media accounts while I am waiting for a doctor to come in, but it seems like it’s never going to happen. If it weren’t for how swollen my ankle is and the weight of the boot encasing my entire leg from the knee down, I’d be raising some hell.

And that’s when the doctor comes in, logs into the computer and starts asking her questions. “So, you’re my skateboarder, right? Leonidas Valdez?”

“Leo,” I correct, and then let out a sigh of boredom. I’ve corrected the nurse and the receptionist already, being told they would note my chart. Why do they take notes if they just end up asking the same stupid questions?

“I see here that the emergency room provided you with a boot and prescribed bed rest until you could get a consultation. You got a consult yesterday next door and I am seeing that they are estimating a six week recovery. How do you feel about all of that?” the doctor rattles everything off so fast I am not sure I’ve heard it, even though I have, and it takes me the entirety of a full minute in silence to really craft a reply that is somewhat logical.

“I mean, I think that I’m not qualified to have an opinion because I don’t have a medical degree. As far as how do I feel about getting this fixed so I can get back on my feet and back out with my friends, I’m feeling pretty great about that part,” I say blandly.

The doctor nods and then swivels away from the computer on the counter. “I think we need to get that foot out so I can evaluate what your range of movement is and identify what sorts of therapies we need to enlist so that we can get your leg back in shape. There will be pain, just so that I’m transparent with you, but it’s all apart of the healing process.”

I nod and follow her directions to remove my boot. She does go through several movements and applies varying levels of pressure in lots of different places. When she’s done she turns to the chart and types a ton of things into my file before coming back to “reassess” a few things, turning again to type into my chart. When she’s done, she turns and grins at me.

“I agree with the prescribed four weeks of physical therapy. I would like to get you started up next week during one of our interns who I think is working under my charge. I’ll be present during the therapy, but I will be working with another client in the same area. If you don’t feel comfortable working with an intern, then we can make other arrangements, but it is entirely up to you,” the doctor says, looking me dead on and waiting for a response. If I’m being honest, it makes me feel a bit like dirt. My injuries are going to take over a month to really heal, but the doctor doesn’t feel that it needs a licensed doctor’s attention. It wounds my pride just a bit.

But I know that my ego shouldn’t interfere with someone’s ability to get the experience they need to be a doctor. I nod my head in agreement. “Yeah, that sounds fine to me.”

“Wonderful,” the doctor says, standing up quickly. “Let’s get you to the front desk and get your appointments set up.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Week 3: The Intern, Miss Calypso**

A nurse is walking me to a very large back room, explaining that the therapists are already back there cleaning up from a previous patient. I listen to her babble about the transitions and express appreciation from patience, but I’m not even really paying attention to her. I learned my lesson with the last nurse. I don’t need to look good because she isn’t going to give me a second look.

When we arrive in the room, the nurse takes me to a chair near a couple of bars that I swear used to be on my school playground when I was a kid. She helps me get out of my boot and offers to grab a bottle of water for me to drink between activities. “Sure,” I say, and then watch her disappear back into the hallway where we first came from.

The doctor and the intern aren’t anywhere to be seen, but I can see an office on the opposite side of the room with tinted windows and a closed door. I’m assuming that they’re in there talking about how I sustained my injury perfoming a risky skateboard trick, and they’re probably just making assumptions about me being some stupid kid.

Then, randomly, a really young lady comes out of the office, and I can’t help but think that she’s gotta be my age at most. She has this beautiful reddish-brown hair sitting in perfect waves bouncing around her shoulders. Her eyes are sparkling as bright as her smile, and she waves with the enthusiasm of a child meeting a superhero or something. No doubt about it, this has got to be the intern, and what a beautiful intern she is…

“Hmm-ayy, hey, hi-lo, hello, hi,” I babble and stutter and struggle through what I had hoped would be a very suave greeting. Feeling inadequate still, I try again. “I’m Leo.”

She laughs. “That’s good. I’m not sure I would’ve known what to do if you weren’t Leo.”

“Thank you for not calling me Leonidas,” I blurt, not knowing what to say, and realizing that I’m so used to people just calling me by my full name that it is strange not to hear it at every doctor’s appointment.

She nods. “I saw the note that you prefer Leo, so you should thank the front desk. As for me, I’m Miss Calypso.”

“Doctor soon, right?” I say.

She laughs, “Not exactly. Doctor is a title reserved for professionals who obtain their doctorate degrees. I’m taking my licensure exam in the spring before I start my master’s degree, but I don’t plan to obtain a doctorate. So I’ll always be Miss Calypso.”

“Wait, is Doctor Singh not really a doctor then?” my eyes dart back to the office on the other side of the room again, accusing Doctor Singh of dishonesty.

Miss Calypso starts busying herself with a few different things while clarifying my inquery. “Doctor Singh, is a doctor. She originally was getting a medical doctorate degree, but ended up getting a job in a physical therapy office while finishing her master’s degree. She likes this work a lot and the title didn’t as much to her as it did her family.”

“Sounds like you guys are friends. Is she really young too, then?” My curiosity is probably going far beyond what is appropriate but I’ve already as the question so I can’t really take it back. As I’m about to tell her not to answer, she offers an explanation.

“She would be flattered, but Doctor Singh is actually older than she looks. Just for reference, she finished her doctorate ten years ago. As for me, I’m probably not as young as you think either.”

“I mean, you  _ look _ like you’re straight out of highschool,” I remark quickly.

Miss Calypso laughs. “Not quite, I’m afraid.”

“Well, you must have that ‘pretty leprosy’ thing then.” It sounded like a compliment, or even a flirt, in my head, but it doesn’t actually sound that way out loud. Miss Calypso knits her brows together and makes a face. She doesn’t know how to take it, I can tell, and we just stop making casual conversation and get to work with my physical therapy.

As for first impressions, though, this isn’t the worst I’ve ever done, I don’t think.


	4. Chapter 4

**Week 4: Progress**

Doing physical therapy sounded like a burden, originally, when I was told it was going to be twice a week for four weeks straight, but now that I’m two weeks into it, I can hardly believe that I’m halfway through the process. I’m feeling pretty great about it and am really pushing myself to go as far as I can before I start really hurting.

“And z!” I howl when I trace the last letter of the alphabet in the air. This is my usual warm-up activity, and the stretch I’m supposed to do at home when I’m elevating my foot at night. This the first time I’ve actually been able to finish all twenty-six letters! Miss Calypso squeals and gives me a high-five.

Almost immediately afterwards, she apologizes. “I’m so sorry. That probably wasn’t very professional of me.”

“No, probably not,” I agree playfully.

“I’m sorry,” she groans, getting up to move away from him and get her chair pushed back to side so that he can get set up at the bars.

“No,” I try to save myself, “I was trying to say that it wasn’t professional but it was human. Like, it was cool that you were excited about that. Sometimes people working in medical offices don’t seem very human, and it was cool that you showed some emotion.”

Miss Calypso doesn’t acknowledge it any further, beyond just saying that she is proud of the progress that he’s making again. The appointment goes on as it normally does, though I’m more successful with each exercise than I ever have been before, but Miss Calypso doesn’t offer as many compliments. It makes things weird between us and changes the tone of the appointment to the point where we spend most of the time in awkward silence.

Near the end of the appointment, Doctor Singh comes out and asks for an update on my progress, and so I take turns with Miss Calypso giving information about the therapy. Doctor Singh seems very happy with everything and expresses that she feels that Miss Calypso was a perfect match for me. “She has become more confident and happy while working since taking over your therapy. I’ve been very impressed.”

“That’s cool. I’m happy working with her, too,” I say, attempting to make eye contact with Miss Calypso, but her bangs are falling to her eyebrows and she’s writing notes down on the clipboard in front of her anyway.

Doctor Singh grins, “I also wanted to let you know that I have a meeting that I have to attend next week which conflicts with your normal time, which means you’ll get a different therapist if you want to keep your normal time. Otherwise, we can work with the ladies out front on getting you another time with Miss Calypso.”

Without a second thought on it, I declare “I would like to do that, yeah. That would make me more comfortable.”

“That’s perfectly fine, let’s head up front and work on getting that scheduled then,” Doctor Singh says joyfully. Miss Calypso says that she wants to get the notes input into the computer right away and chooses to return to the office rather than joining Doctor Singh and I at the front of the office. I can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt my feelings, but talking about feelings is kind of what put me in this weird situation so I just let it go. I act like I don’t even notice.


	5. Chapter 5

**Week 5: Happy Birthday, Leo Valdez**

Normally, I love making a big deal about my birthday, but I’m still in a boot, so I haven’t gone out of my way to remind people that they should be celebrating my entire existence. Since I do tech repairs, I’ve been just working more than usual to pass the time between take-out orders and therapy appointments. That’s why it’s a surprise when Miss Calypso comes out with two party hates and two cupcakes.

“Happy Birthday, Leo Valdez!” she chirps happily. Doctor Singh waves from where she is working with her patient, confirming that the kind gesture was no problem to her. Miss Calypso waits for me to reach out my hand to accept the cupcake she’s offering me. After I take it, she also puts a party hat on my head.

“Thank you,” I mumble, unsure how to receive this level of kindness.

We enjoy our cupcakes silently, for the most part, save for a few comments about how delicious the marbled cupcake is with the bright yellow whipped icing. Miss Calypso makes some small talk about birthdays being something fun to celebrate with patients, if they have appointments on their birthdays, and how the weather has been really nice, but then she brings it back to me. I knew it was coming, but it’s never a fun thing to address.

“Are you doing anything with your family tonight or anything to celebrate?” she asks joyfully.

“I don’t have any family, actually. Uhm,” I want to say more and explain but then I feel like that’s not appropriate so I sort of start a back-up thought but never actually get the words out, so I just leave an indefinite end on my statement. Miss Calypso pauses mid-bite and considers the information I’ve offered.

Then she lifts her hand and apologizes.

“Please don’t do that,” I bite in frustration. “Please don’t feel bad for me or anything. I grew up with everyone feeling bad for me and I really just want people to let it go.”

“Sure,” she says. “I get it. I haven’t got any family either, at least none that I keep in contact with anymore. It’s been a long time since I’ve even spoken about them, honestly.”

“By choice?” the question slips from my lips before I consider that it’s none of my business.

“As soon as I was able, I left them. They never treated me well and it was doing more harm to my mental and emotional health than good, so I’ve started a life on my own without them. It’s a hard choice, but the right one for me,” Miss Calypso admits, and freely no less, which creates a somber cloud in the air between us.

I don’t want to apologize to her because I know how much I hate hearing it. Instead, I offer a part of my story in return. “My mom died in a house fire when I was younger, and I was put through the ringer with the foster care system. The closest thing to family I have now are a couple of friends I met at a summer camp. Their names are Percy and Annabeth, and they’re pretty good as being my friends and my parents most of the time.”

“I’m happy that you have them in your life,” she admits with a smile. I can see in her eyes that she does not have someone like that in her life, but I can also see that she doesn’t want to admit it either. I’ve been where she’s been, having nobody in my corner, and I don’t want to humiliate her. Instead, I stand up and smile at her, and then place myself at the bars to begin working.

Everything progresses as these therapy appointments usually do, right down to Miss Calypso walking me to the lobby. Before we part ways, though, I turn around and call for her attention one more time. “When is your birthday, Miss Calypso?”

She shrugs and shakes her head. “I haven’t celebrated my birthday in a long time, Leo Valdez. But thank you for asking. I’ll see you next week.”

I bet she doesn’t think I note her smiling when she turns away, but it is the only thing I’ll be thinking about until I get the answer. Everyone deserves to feel special at least one day a year, for no other reason than staying alive and staying strong for three-hundred and sixty-five long days.


	6. Chapter 6

**Week 6: Tell Me More**

Miss Calypso is not in a talkative mood when we start our appointment. She has me go through all of the usual exercises to stretch my muscles and warm up my foot. I try to make conversation with her but everything ends in just a few exchanges. Obviously, something is bothering her. That happens, I suppose, because nobody can live a perfectly happy life all the time. Nobody can be expected to keep all of their emotions under lock and key.

I let it go, and I wait for her to start up a conversation instead. I don’t want to pressure her into talking with me if she doesn’t feel up to it. We walk up and down the bars, though I’m doing more and more on my own to the point where she’s really just watching me. Next week is my last week of therapy, so I should be able to do most of the exercises on my own or with very minimal assistance.

These appointments last an hour, and it isn’t until the last fifteen minutes that Miss Calypso says something that isn’t work related. “I’m very proud of you today, Leo. We’ll have to do something special for your last appointment next week.”

She’s saying nice things, but she sounds so sad. I understand that feeling all too well. More than once I’ve tried to feign happiness and miss the mark. That’s part of growing up in a home that isn’t a home. It makes me wonder what’s bothering her, and I don’t plan on stopping myself even if I know it’s crossing a boundary that could have consequences.

“What’s bothering you today?” I ask boldly.

Miss Calypso shrugs her shoulders. “It’s complicated, really. I shouldn’t burden a patient with that sort of information.”

“Tell me more about that, yeah?” I say, somewhat to mock her but mostly to keep her talking.

Miss Calypso shrugs again, and then shakes her head. “We’re not supposed to talk about our personal lives with patients unless it is directly relevant to their care. I’m sorry that I was less than pleasant today.”

I laugh at her. It makes her frown, but I see a smile sneak over her lips at the last second before she turns her head back down to her chart. She’s moving over the paper slowly and I know what it means. She is distracted. “Just spill the beans.”

“I got good news yesterday and I’m just frustrated that I have nobody to share it with since I don’t have anyone that I’m really close to, and the people here at work already know,” she explains simply, a plain expression on her face. I understand exactly how she feels and know exactly what she means. I have Percy and Annabeth now, and Piper and Jason even stay in touch sometimes, so I know the value of having someone - literally anyone - who cars.

“Tell me, then. Tell me your good news,” I offer softly, keeping my gaze locked on her. Miss Calypso should feel important and special if she’s going to share some good news with me. I want her to know that  _ I  _ care. If nothing else, I care.

Miss Calypso doesn’t lift her chin or show her face, but I just know in my heart that she’s tearing up. Whatever made her abandon her family was serious, and it obviously makes it hard for her to connect with other people. But, I got through to her. She whispers, “Another therapist is leaving the office in a few months and they’ve offered the job to me when I finish my testing. I get to stay here and work part-time until that position is open.”

“That’s amazing! What did you do to celebrate?” I can’t help but shout a little bit at her exciting news. Maybe I’m in no place to say it, but I feel like she deserves a lot more than she gets. It’s hard business living without a family, and without friends, and doing everything only because you want and have to do it. Yeah, she  _ definitely _ deserves this mark in the win column.

Miss Calypso wobbles her whole body a little, and then reveals, “I ordered a large pizza for myself and ate almost all of it. That’s kind of like celebrating, I think.”

“First off, yes, that is definitely celebrating things the right way. But secondly, and probably the most important thing, why did you do that alone? Do you have absolutely nobody that you could call to come over?” It sounds like an interrogation, or a terrible pick-up line, but I want her to tell me that I’m wrong. I want her to correct herself. I want to know that she’s not completely alone when she’s not working.

It’s not even my business but I don’t want to stop myself from caring.

“I really don’t. I keep to myself, usually,” she says before she stands up. She gestures to the door next, indicating that our appointment is over. Even if I want to stay and talk, I can’t. If I do, I could get her in trouble. So I follow her lead and head out front to schedule me last two appointments.

Before she gets out of earshot, though, I shout at her, “I want pizza for my last appointment, Miss Calypso.”

She waves me off, but I have a feeling that she won’t let me down.


	7. Chapter 7

**Week 7: One Door Shuts**

I am waiting for a long time for Miss Calypso, who said she was just stepping out to get the pizza I’d requested from the break room. I consider going over to Doctor Singh to ask what’s going on, but then I talk myself out of it because she’s working with a patient right now. To pass the time, I shift in my seat, practice looking suave, and even try looking up Miss Calypso’s social media profiles.

Turns out, she’s not online. Anywhere. She is absolutely nowhere.

It’s really weird. When I’m super invested in finding literally anything about her online, that’s when she returns, too, so I can’t even keep searching. “Pizza, just like the man ordered.”

“You didn’t have to, but I’m psyched that you did!” I employ my usual enthusiasm, but there must be something off about my expression because Miss Calypso scrunches her brows together for a moment. “Is there extra cheese?”

“One large, extra cheese, extra pepperoni, extra banana peppers, with cheesy bite crust - just like the doctor ordered,” she chimes, with Doctor Singh confirming that she did, in fact, order it.

Our arrangement is that I can eat one slice of pizza after every activity, which will pace me so I don’t eat it all like a crazy person in front of Miss Calypso. In turn, she agrees to answer questions that I ask while we are doing our pizza break.

When it’s time to eat and question, though, there’s a clear change in the atmosphere. The air between us feels almost weird but not really, but also not exactly tense either. It’s different. But I don’t feel like it’s in a bad way.

“So how did you go about asking Doctor Singh to buy this pizza? This can’t be a normal thing that people do with their patients,” the question comes out pretty quickly and easily. There’s no way that Doctor Singh is just letting her staff have celebratory lunches with their patients every time they finish their stint in therapy.

Miss Calypso definitely beats around the bush by confirming that it really isn’t normal for lunches with patients, and that other offices from upon it. She goes on to explain that Doctor Singh is much nicer than most doctors and that she is really wonderful to work for, which strays further away from the question.

But eventually she looks up at me and sees that I’m not buying any of it at face value. If she wants me to leave this question lie then she’s gotta actually answer it. “I asked Doctor Singh for some advice about a situation and she agreed to do this to help me out with the other thing I asked her about.”

“What-” I attempt to ask another question but Miss Calypso stops me in my tracks.

“You’ll have to wait until the next piece of pizza, Leo Valdez,” she declares playfully, and then ushers me onto the next activity.

I don’t rush into my question that I wanted to ask, feeling like maybe it’s a pretty big question to ask, so I ask other things instead: favorite food, favorite movie, favorite music. All the typical stuff you try to know about someone you want to be friends with, right, so I’m asking all those softball questions.

And then when its the past question, I throw the big one out there. “What was the other favor you asked of Doctor Singh?”

Miss Calypso glances over her shoulder, fiddles with the edge of her chair, and shuffles her feet awkwardly. When she turns around she stands up and shoves a hand deep into her pocket and pulls out a net folded piece of paper with her name on it.

“What’s this?”

Without missing a beat, she whispers, “It’s my phone number. I wanted to go out sometime, if you were interested.”

“Was that your other favor?” I ask in total confusion.

It’s just a simple nod, but I see it so clearly that I swear it’s the only thing happening on the whole planet. Never in a million years would I have thought that this woman would give me her phone number, let alone ask me out on a date. I am amazed, thrilled, and excited.

I am so amazed, thrilled, and excited that I don’t even form words. “Hmbpgh.”

“Cool, so I’m pretty sure I’ll hear from you tomorrow?” she snickers. While watching her clean up the mess around us, the only thing I am thinking is that she’s absolutely crazy if she thinks I’m waiting until tomorrow to text her to set up a time for this date.

She’ll be lucky if I wait until I’m out of the parking lot.

And then, as if she can read my mind, making her somehow even more great that I already thought she was, she shoots my idea down. “Please at least wait until I’m off work.”

“Okay,” I mumble, accepting that there is probably a thing as ‘too eager.’

I get all checked out after Miss Calypso finishes with my appointment, and then I wait by the front door. It’s the last time that I’m planning to be here as a patient. And yet, I feel a rush in my veins that it won’t be the last time I’ll be here. When I got injured at that stupid skateboarding competition, I was so frustrated and didn’t feel like anyone was going to actually care about me. My thought was that this would be just like so many other experiences in my life.

Miss Calypso, who I guess I’ll just be calling Calypso from now on, was so different from everyone else. She was silly and honest. She was complex and human. I can’t believe that I actually have her number in my pocket right now. It was total chance that I even met her in the first place!

Tucking my chin into my chest, I whirl out of the office and head back to the car where Annabeth is waiting with Percy. They’ve been driving me to my appointments to reduce the chances of me hurting myself even further, and even though I’m done and clear to move around as I used to, Annabeth didn’t want to chance it on day one. “Your face has a lot of emotions on it, that’s weird,” she says when I crawl inside.

“Annabeth,” Percy reminds her gently.

“I mean, you look happier, Leo. Did your last appointment go really well?” she corrects herself.

“Definitely,” I say, keeping this little victory to myself for the time being. In true Leo Valdez fashion, I’m going to hold my breath until someone pinches me to prove that it’s real.


End file.
